


Make You Feel Better

by astro_noms



Category: CW RPS, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Crack, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-22
Updated: 2010-04-22
Packaged: 2017-10-09 02:15:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astro_noms/pseuds/astro_noms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's CW RPS MPREG. I DON'T EVEN KNOW. /o\</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make You Feel Better

Jared leaves thirteen panicked messages on Jensen's voice mail before Jensen actually gets around to listening to them. There's no way to ignore them, not when Jared's voice goes from mildly panicked to distressed to holding back great choking sobs as the messages progress. Jensen cancels his plane ticket home, grabs his overnight bag, and heads to Jared's, just barely avoiding getting pulled over for speeding.

When he gets to Jared's, he finds him sitting on the floor in the living room, drinking from a bottle of cooking sherry, lolling against the couch.

"What's going on, Jared?"

"I'm going to drink this until I can't see straight," Jared holds up the bottle, his words already starting to slur, "and then I'm going to throw myself down the stairs."

"Oh, God, what are you, pregnant or something? Or just channeling a Victorian fallen woman?"

There is silence where he would normally expect a resounding "fuck you" to come from Jared before he'd finished speaking, and he runs his hand over his face.

"No way. No fucking way." Jensen suddenly becomes aware of the depressingly twangy music playing on the stereo. He listens to it for a moment, and dismisses it when he realizes it falls into the "my wife left me, the cat crapped in the milk, the truck's dead, and I can't get to the rodeo" category. He figured Jared's calls might have something to do with Chad's impending nuptials, but this just takes the fucking cake.

There is still silence from Jared, which only serves as confirmation of the utterly fucked up conclusion he'd just reached. Still, never let it be said Jensen doesn't think fast on his feet. And never let it be said that he'd run out on something like this.

"OK, so what do we do?"

"What do you mean, we?" Jared gets to his feet, a bit unsteadily. "I can't ask you to get involved in this.

Jensen rolls his eyes. "Well, it's kinda too late for that, isn't it? Or are you gonna break up with me over this?" He's trying really hard not to laugh, because Jared really looks like he might start crying any minute now. Instead, he goes to Jared, and gets there just in time to stop six feet plus of his costar from falling straight into the glass coffee table.

"Jesus, Jared. How much of that stuff have you drank?" He grabs the bottle out of Jared's hand and sets it aside, pulling Jared upright and leading him away from the sharp edges and glass and onto the couch. Jared sprawls gracelessly, curling up around one of the cushions.

"Whatever was in that bottle," Jared waves his hand at the bottle, "and the other one," he points to the kitchen counter. There is, indeed, an empty bottle lying there.

"Why are you drinking cooking sherry, anyway? Don't you have anything better around? What happened to all that beer I brought over two days ago?"

"It's gone, man," Jared says, rolling over onto his back and looking up at Jensen. "Did I ever tell you how much I love your freckles?"

Jensen feels decidedly like Dean Winchester right then. "Oh, God," he mutters. "Kill me now." He starts to walk towards the kitchen to make Jared some coffee and food, but before he can get more than three feet away, Jared grabs his wrist, his giant hand completely enclosing Jensen's wrist. There are tears in Jared's eyes, though, and he has no choice but to sit down on the couch next to him and let Jared pull him into a sloppy embrace.

"He didn't even—" Jared sobs into his shirt. "He just said he had to get back. He just fucking left!"

"J, man, why are you getting so worked up about this? You know as well as I do it won't last any longer than it did the last time. He and his kindergartener child bride will split up, and you two'll be back to being best buddies in no time." God, he really sucks at this comfort thing. It was so much easier when it was just sex.

Jared just holds onto him a little tighter and shakes. Jensen wraps his arms around Jared and just holds him, because, well, what else can he do? Jared mutters something into his shirt, and Jensen pulls away.

"What was that?"

Jensen mutters again, and this time it's got to be on purpose.

"Come on, man, just say it."

"It's not yours, you know."

"Well of course it's not mine, shithead. Last time I checked, we used condoms every time. And, you know, as much as I'm proud of my boys, I'm sure even they don't have that much speed and power." He puffs out his chest a bit, but it's lost on Jared, who goes right back to clinging to him.

"Okay, what do you wanna do? And no, drinking more cooking sherry and throwing yourself down the stairs isn't an option." Jensen wonders if he could somehow pull together a posse to go and deal with Chad. Chris and Steve would probably be willing to help, he thinks. As soon as he gets a moment out of Jared's earshot, he tells himself, he's making a few phone calls.

Jared makes some disgusting sniffling sounds – oh God, he's probably getting snot over Jensen's shirt – and then sits up. He straightens up, as much as he can in his current state, and clenches his jaw.

"I'm not getting rid of it," he says.

Jensen nods. "OK." He nods again, and takes Jared's hand in his. "OK," he says again, and that's enough.

Jared lurches to his feet and practically flies across the living room and into the bathroom, where he throws up a bottle and a half of the sherry and whatever else he's eaten and drank that morning. Jensen follows him into the bathroom once he's sure the worst of the throwing up is over. He wets a washcloth and hands it to Jared, who's sitting on the floor by the toilet. Jared looks up at him with tear-reddened eyes and trembling lips.

"Oh, man. What are we gonna tell Eric? Christ, what are we gonna tell my parents?"

"We'll figure something out, don't worry about it." He holds out a hand, and when Jared takes it, helps him up to his feet. Jared practically falls into his arms, and Jensen makes a face. "Dude, brush your fucking teeth. Better yet, take a shower and change your clothes. We're going out to eat."

"Why are you doing this?" Jared calls out before he can leave the bathroom, and he turns back to face Jared. "Why aren't you more freaked out? Why aren't you leaving?"

"Because that's not what friends do." And it's that simple. As for why he's not more freaked out? Well, that remains to be seen. He hasn't called anyone yet, hasn't put anything in motion.

Jared's cell phone rings, and he picks it up from the kitchen counter so that Jared will actually finish his shower instead of getting distracted. The call display simply says "Chad" and Jensen actually has to take a moment to breathe and not simply throw the phone out the window. Instead, he answers, schooling his voice into something resembling his normal voice and not the homicidal growl he wants to use.

"What do you want, Chad?"

"Oh, fuck," Chad says, his voice cracking just a little bit.

"Yeah. What do you want? And keep in mind that your answer will not only determine whether you ever lay eyes on Jared or this baby, but also whether you live to lay eyes on another fucking day." There is no keeping the growl out of his voice, and he doesn't even bother.

"Jensen, I know I shouldn't have left, but Kenzie's parents—"

Jensen makes a buzzer noise that drowns out whatever else Chad is saying. "Wrong answer, asshole."

"Look, man, I just called to tell Jared I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? You knock him up and leave him to try and drink himself stupid and then you have the fucking nerve to call to tell him that you're sorry?" Jensen can't stop his voice from rising, and he really doesn't care if Jared hears him. "Fuck you, man. Fuck you and your fucking child bride. Stay the fuck away from us." He hangs up the phone, and this time he does throw it against the wall.

Jared chooses just that moment to walk into the living room, wearing fresh clothes, his hair still a bit wet. He's a little unsteady on his feet, and he looks at Jensen with a puzzled expression.

"Who was that?"

"Nobody important," Jensen shrugs. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah," Jared nods. "'M kinda hungry, actually."

"Well, you're eating for two now, you know," Jensen grins and is rewarded by a tiny smile from Jared as well.

"Fuck you, man," Jared drawls at him as they head out the door.

"Maybe later," Jensen quips and wraps his arm around Jared. Behind them, in the house, the phone starts to ring, but they ignore it, and head for the car instead.


End file.
